Love Me Harder
by warriorwidow
Summary: Post TWS, Bucky and Natasha are sent on a mission in upstate New York. In the suburbs, they must pretend to be newlyweds, but can they ignore their rising feelings towards each other as both of their memories of the past start to rise? First story. A mix of background from the movies and comics, but mainly from my imagination. Will eventually be M rated.
1. Chapter 1

Kind of a short chapter just to force myself to post something. Hopefully it interests you.

* * *

"You're sure you can handle this?" Maria Hill asked her once they entered the elevator.  
"Piece of cake," Natasha shrugged as she slid her ID badge and pressed a button to get to the basement level.  
"Natasha," Maria spoke her name in scold like tone and gave her a pointed look to match. "Seriously."  
"Seriously?" Natasha raised her eyebrows and sighed. "I'll be fine. It's not me you have to worry about."  
"I told you, he's been fully rehabilitated," Maria went on as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.  
"So he remembers everything?" Natasha asked, trying not to sound too curious.  
"Not exactly," Maria replied as they walked down a stark hallway, passing room after room. "He remembers who he is and has full control over himself, but the rest is still a bit of a jumble."  
"A jumble?"  
"He says his memories aren't fully intact," Maria explained as they came to a stop in front of an unmarked door. "That he gets bits and pieces when triggered, but has no real power over when they come. Natasha, we wouldn't send him out on a mission if we weren't certain he's not a danger."  
"I know," Natasha nodded once, having heard all this back in Fury's office. "I got this," she said assuringly when Maria gave her an unsteady look.  
"I'll see you tomorrow," Maria ultimately said. "9am sharp."  
Left alone in front of the locked door, Natasha had time to breathe. She'd been so caught up in trying to seem fine with all that was going on, she didn't have time to actually process the information. Shield had fallen. Steve Rogers was off the grid, not in contact with anyone, herself included. Nick Fury was trying to rebuild, but so was Hydra.

That's why this mission was so important. Everyone was still scrambling to hold the pieces of what was left together, there was no one left to tend to their special guest. She'd just been informed that the Winter Soldier had turned himself in months ago, soon after the incident on the hellicarrier.  
According to Fury and Hill, he asked to be put in a jail where he couldn't hurt anyone. This surprised them, but not Natasha. When she knew him, he was nothing if not mindful of others. Of course no one else knew about their time in the Red Room besides her. She wasn't even sure if he knew.

Truthfully she was still undecided on whether she wanted him to remember her or not. On the one hand, he was her first love and they'd shared something indescribable, but on the other, any time she thought of him she felt a swell of pain surge through her whole body.

No one else had that affect on her.  
If he did remember, he'd kept his mouth shut about it to her superiors otherwise they wouldn't allow them to be paired together. It was a low level mission with minimal risk, unusual for her but a good way for Shield to see if he was truly reformed.  
Fury took pride in her ability to be comfortable with any and all circumstances, now wasn't the time to disappoint in that area. Telling anyone about their past would only bring up unnecessary questions.  
She was professional, and could put her mixed feelings towards him aside. Yet here she stood, unable to get herself to open the door.

She shut her eyes as her mind played tricks on her, flashing between memories of the winter soldier trying to kill her on the streets of Washington D.C. and a fading memory of the way his metal hand felt on her skin as he ran it along her naked back.  
She shook her head clear, telling herself to rein it in. Forcing herself to steady her breathing, she put a hand on the doorknob, swiped her ID badge and opened the door. It swung open slowly and she stepped inside, the man she'd fallen in love with all those years ago sat still on the single bed in the corner.

She wasn't prepared for the way her heartbeat sped up when he looked up at her, the clear blue of his eyes icier than she remembered.  
"Sergeant Barnes," she cleared her throat, trying to sound as professional as she hoped she looked. It was the moment of truth for her. Did he or didn't he remember her? Remember the brief moments of bliss they brought each other in a lifetime of despair.  
"Natalia," The tone in his voice paired with the name he couldn't have known gave her her answer.  
This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

Future chapters will be longer and hopefully better. This story will be multi-chapter and a mix of present day and past flashbacks. Please be kind.

I don't mind if you don't feel like commenting, but I hope you do. And if you do, I hope you're not cruel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading :)**

* * *

His mind had been working overtime the past few months, trying desperately to remember who he was. It was hard when the memories that surfaced were often violent, detailed scenes of himself murdering or torturing some poor sap for reasons unknown. He called those 'winter soldier memories'. Those were his least favorite.

Then there were 'bucky' memories, most of which involved the blonde man he now knew was Steve Rogers. Those were usually happier, though sometimes involved wartime, but they always left him a twinge of sadness.

He thought it would be easier if he could just organize his thoughts, but it wasn't. Instead it left him in this strange limbo. He wasn't the killing machine the Russians had made him, but he wasn't a carefree bachelor of the 40's either. That's where she came in.

The first time it happened, he was in the middle of one of the countless therapy sessions Shield had Him attending. The skinny man with square glasses whose name he didn't bother to learn had asked him to think about what had happened recently on a freeway overpass. He focused, trying and failing to pull his mind free of hydra's last memory wipe. When he was just about to give up, a flash of red flew across his mind.  
He remembered her hair whipping past him, the vibrant shade making the world pale in comparison. Then, he wasn't on the streets of D.C. anymore; he didn't know where he was, but he wasn't alone. The same fiery strands of hair were now tangled in his fingertips, soft and silky as he combed it back.

As soon as the memory came, it was gone, and he'd been thoroughly confused. Since then, the slightest trigger brought up a memory of her. He didn't know how, but he kept remembering random facts about her; things he shouldn't know.

Then there were flashes of her skin, soft and warm against his own. Sometimes he could feel her full lips pressed against his own as they got lost in each other. He had no idea what to call those memories.  
All he knew was that those were the only memories he'd regained where he felt like himself; whoever that was. He thought of her and there was no pressure, no expectations to be someone he wasn't. Of course thinking of her was completely different than actually having her in front of him.  
As soon as she walked in, he felt his mouth go dry, like his body already knew how to react to her. He almost thought he'd imagined how beautiful she was, but here she stood, lighting up the darkness he'd come to know as his room.  
She spoke his rank and last name, her deep voice music to his ears. He knew he was gaping at her, but didn't care. He knew her. He didn't know how or why or when, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, she was the only thing he could think of that didn't make him angry or upset.  
"Natalia," he spoke the name as soon as his mind conjured it up. He didn't know where it came from, but from her reaction he knew it struck a cord with her. She'd been trained well, her expression remaining stoic, but her eyes flickered for s split second, showing him her true feelings. She recognized the name and was surprised he'd used it.  
"It's Natasha, actually," she clarified as if he'd just made a mistake. He knew he hadn't though, which was saying a lot considering there wasn't a whole lot he was sure of these days.  
"No," he shook his head slowly, more determined than ever. "It's not."  
"Yes," she nodded sternly once, her eyes darting away from him. He followed her gaze to a corner of his room where a small but active security camera had been since he moved in. "It is."

"Mm," His response was almost silent, as he fully understood. For whatever reason she didn't want whoever was watching to know what he knew about her; which wasn't much.

"Right, so," She cleared her throat and handed him a file. "I just wanted to formally introduce myself and bring you this." He took the Manila folder with his metal hand, suddenly self-conscious about it. "It's the background info on our cover for the mission. Read it, memorize it, live it," she was all business, and he had no choice but to follow her lead. He had so many questions for her, but didn't want to ask them in front of the camera she'd pointed out.  
"Yes ma'am," he nodded, mesmerized by her emerald eyes even as they glared at him.  
"We have a meeting tomorrow at 9, someone will come by to bring you," she was looking right at him but it felt like she was looking through him. She might as well have been talking to a wall. "Don't screw this up," she said, slightly more sincerely, her mouth almost twitching into a smirk.  
Without another word, she was gone, taking any answers she might've had about his past with her.

.  
Late at night he tossed and turned, unable to shake her from his thoughts even in sleep. Unconscious, his mind seemed most likely to pull memories forward, though not always pleasant ones.  
He'd dreamt of this place before, a training facility where the Russians had kept him. He remembered fighting and living there, but most of all he remembered the very first machine they'd used to wipe his memories and brainwash him.  
He wasn't in the room with the machine though. He was in a large room with wooden floors and old looking punching bags that hung from the ceilings. He felt at ease here, like coming to this room at this specific time was all part of his routine.  
He wasn't alone here, instead surrounded by about twenty teenage girls, all dressed in workout clothing. His voice echoed off the walls, shouting commands in Russian. They responded to each order with a new position, sometimes striking a punching bag in front of them.  
A short bell sounded and all the girls bowed to him before scurrying off to somewhere he wasn't privileged to know. He didn't care either; usually he was only concerned with the fact that his part was done. Not today though.  
Today, his curiosity was getting the best of him. For weeks now his eye had been drawn to one of his pupils. She was the smallest of them all, with red hair and light freckles spread sparsely on her face. He'd noticed her because she was the best. She never needed to be taught a move twice and she fought with a determination no one else had displayed.  
He waited till the rest of the girls had all gone to approach her. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to stop, but a stronger pull in his chest made him do it. Like every day before, she stayed behind to practice what was learned, her small fists pounding into the punching bag in swift motions.  
He stood behind the bag, holding it steady as she looked up at him for a moment. He nodded and she continued wordlessly, hitting with all her might. Her short bangs stuck to her forehead in a sticky sweat while her ponytail swung wildly with each movement.  
Up close, she was shorter than he remembered, probably no bigger than the punching bag she was attacking. He noticed how her body seemed more developed than the other girls' yet she still had a baby face.  
"Stop." He'd barely finished the word and she'd already complied. She held herself still, her chest heaving up and down. "You'll never win with brute strength. You're too small." He noted how she tried to hide her disappointment in his words and tried to clarify. "You're clever, though," she perked up a bit at that. "We can use that."  
"Thank you sir," she bowed her head. He knew it was a proper address but it felt wrong to him.  
"How old are you?" He inquired, making her glance at the floor and clasp her hands together behind her back.  
"I don't know sir," she answered.  
"What do you mean you don't know?"  
"They haven't told me, sir," she explained. "But I earned my name last month, sir," She volunteered almost eagerly.  
"What is it?" He asked.  
"Natalia," She spoke proudly, and he could tell she was trying not to grin.  
"Do you like it?" He found himself asking, knowing how empty he himself had felt without a name.  
"Yes, sir," she nodded, her green eyes bright. "I do," she paused then looked back up at him quizzically. "Do you?"  
"Yes," he nodded, allowing himself crack a smile. "I think Natalia is a beautiful name."  
"Thank you, sir," she was beaming at him now, proud to have something to introduce herself as.

"Sir?" She spoke cautiously.  
"Yes, Natalia?" He said it purely to see her smile.  
"What is... _your_ name?" Her voice dropped a few decibels to ask.  
"My name?" He repeated, for some reason not expecting it. He raked his mind, searching and searching like he had many times before, still coming up empty. His handlers referred to him simply as 'soldier' and he'd never felt the need for anything more. Yet standing in front of this child, he felt a pang of jealousy. She had a name and he didn't.  
"Sir?" Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "It...it's okay if you don't remember," she told him kindly. "There're some things I don't remember either..." She shrugged lightly as if she'd made peace with this fact.

His heart tugged in his chest again, and he was strangely thankful for this child and the person he was around her. He gave her the highest form of praise he could think of. "You're going to make a great weapon, Natalia."  
He woke up with a jolt, her voice from all those years ago still clear in his mind. There were so many questions he didn't have answers to, but now he had one.

He'd known her name because she told it to him herself once.


	3. Chapter 3

**thank you for reading :)**

* * *

Natalie Ryan. Twenty-eight years old. Born and raised in New York City, but well travelled. A college graduate with a degree in business who started her own boutique in SoHo. Enter James Rushman. A thirty one year old software developer who's never been west of Oklahoma. He's hired to design her shop's website, the two meet, fall madly in love, and the rest is history.

Natasha had been telling and retelling their story to herself all morning as she got dressed. Now on the elevator headed to yet another basement level, she's mainly doing it to distract herself.  
"Married six months ago. A quiet ceremony in Vermont," her voice was a whisper as she stared at her reflection in the silver elevator doors. Her eyes looked worn, telling anyone who looked at her about sleepless night. She'd tossed and turned, unable to free her mind all night.  
James.  
She'd been almost afraid to speak his first name when they were face to face, sure that her voice would crack like a nervous teenager's. That's what she had been when they first met, a child on the brink of a life she had no way to prepare for. As the elevator dinged while it passed floor after floor, she tried to push down the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She still remembered the aggravated, lost look in his eyes when she asked him to remember his name. As young as she was, she was perceptive. Although the other girls had been afraid of him, mostly because of his metal arm, she never was.

In the Red Room, she didn't have many allies, but she liked to consider him one. He'd take time after class to show her more advanced combat moves than he showed the others, paying special attention to her she wasn't used to. His compliments were unlike those she'd heard before; focused on her talents and abilities rather than her looks. It wasn't till she was older that they'd truly gotten to know each other, but from the start, they'd had a connection.

As she looked at her weary reflection, she wondered what he thought of her yesterday, and hoped she came off as the confident woman she was; not the emotional wreck she'd been the last night. Nothing could've prepared her for the sound of her name on his lips. Nothing. He'd said it innocently, but it brought back a flood of memories that made her shut her eyes.

 _"Kick harder, Natalia," He'd shouted to her when she was a child._

 _"Is that the best you got, Natalia?" He'd challenged her when she was older._

 _"I love you, Natalia," He'd whispered to her late at night, when he snuck into her room._

"Romanoff?" A woman's concerned voice pulled her back to reality. She blinked her eyes open to see the elevator doors opened and Maria Hill standing in front of her with furrowed brows and an expectant expression. "You alright?"

"Y-Yeah," Natasha cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "Of course. Headache," She shrugged it off and exited, falling into step beside Hill.

"If you're not up to this, no one would blame you," Maria said in a friendly tone Natasha wasn't used to.

"I'm fine," She replied, giving a reassuring smile. "So what's all this for?" Natasha asked, gesturing to the wide-open room before her. In the center stood a large hanging green screen with camera equipment in front of it. To its left and right were two movable curtain walls with racks of assorted clothing.

"This," Hill held her arms up. "Is your wedding day," She gave Natasha a smirk.

"My what?" Natasha heard perfectly clear, but still asked.

"Your wedding day," Hill repeated. "Congrats," She said monotonously. Before she could explain further, the elevator dinged with another arrival. Natasha held her breath as James walked out the doors with two Shield agents behind him.

"No cuffs is a good sign," Natasha noted out loud.

"Show of good faith," Hill shrugged.

"Agent Hill," James gave a polite nod in her direction before setting his eyes on Natasha. "My betrothed," He smirked and bowed at her.

"Cute," Natasha spoke uninterestedly.

"So here's what we've got so far," Maria cut in. "Someone inside a company named Wayne Enterprises has been syphoning company money to an offshore account used to fund Hydra."

"How much money are we talking?" Natasha asked.

"Millions," James whistled at the amount, and Agent Hill nodded. "We suspect it's one of Hydra's main sources of income."

"So the sooner it's shut down, the better," Natasha surmised.

"Exactly," Hill nodded. "We've known the company was shady for years, but we finally caught a break after the mess in D.C. Someone slipped up and our operative inside was able to send actual proof of money being funneled through embedded codes in documents only accessible with a certain clearance level. Our guy narrowed down the search to the company's IT department until…"

"Until?" Natasha goaded, not liking the answer already.

"Until he was found face down in the Hudson River," She divulged, making James and Natasha exchange glances. "It wasn't a professional kill, so we know whoever this is wasn't trained by Hydra. Our Intel is solid, guys. We wouldn't send you in if we weren't sure."

"I know," Natasha nodded. Ever since the incident on the hellicarriers, Fury had cracked down on Shield's missions; he only sent agents out on them if absolutely necessary.

"However," Maria gave them a grim look. "This mission is strictly evasive, I can't stress that enough. You go in, gather as much information as you can for as long as you can without being suspected, then you get out. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am," James nodded once.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Natasha asked Hill, noticing the way she was raising her eyebrows in her direction.

"Because you've been known to be…aggressive, shall we say," Hill said, earning an amused look from James. "We need stealth on this one, okay?"

"Understood," Natasha nodded once, her jaw locked.

"Alright," Maria continued. "Wayne Enterprises has its own gated community available should employees want to live nearby. We managed to snag you a house on the same block as most of the upper level IT guys, so you'll be in the thick of it."

"Good." Natasha and James spoke in unison, glancing back at each other quickly.

"I trust you've memorized your cover stories?" Hill asked, both of them nodding in response. "Barnes, you're going in as a new hire in the department. Don't raise any eyebrows; just blend in."

"Not to be rude," Natasha cut in. "But how exactly does a metal arm 'blend in?'"

"Did you get it?" Maria asked James now, leaving Natasha out of the loop.

"Just came from the lab," he answered, nodding and rolling up his t-shirt sleeve. Around his silver shoulder sat black metallic strap about an inch wide. He reached up and pressed something on it she couldn't see. A low static hum came from it before a hologram appeared, camouflaging his arm in what looked like skin.

Natasha had seen and used this kind of technology before, mostly to disguise her face, but seeing it on him was different. She stared at his arms separately then together, noting the symmetry, and took a step towards him.

"May I?" She looked up at him through dark lashes to ask. He nodded silently, nervous to have her so near.

She lifted his hand into her palm, feeling the smooth skin surface of it on her fingertips. Her slender fingers traced a line up his palm and to his wrist, her mind remembering all the times she'd held this very hand in hers.

 _"What does it feel like?" She'd whispered one night, after a particularly intimate session. His left arm was resting around her comfortably, and she'd found herself playing with his metallic fingers with her own._

 _"It feels…like an arm," He answered seriously, making her giggle in a way she wasn't proud of. She looked up to see him smirking at her reaction before explaining. "I can feel things the way my other hand does, just…not as much. Not as real."_

 _"Did it hurt?" Her voice was quiet as she looked into his deep blue eyes. Here, in her arms, he let himself go, not worried about appearing tough all the time. She caught a flash of pain in his eyes as memories of his past dawned on him._

 _"Yes," He finally said, his voice gruff. "I don't remember much about the beginning but pain," He focused his attention on the way she held his left hand between both of hers, loving the way it felt._

 _"I'm sorry," She said, bringing his hand up to her lips. He fell asleep to her placing gentle kisses on his fingers, never more at peace._

Staring down at the now flesh covered hand, Natasha missed the real thing. She missed the way he'd trace her jawline with his fingertips right before he kissed her. She missed the cool metal against her body, warming at her touch. She missed the way he held her down during moments of passion, forcing her to ride out wave after wave of pleasure. But most of all, she missed him.

"It's still as strong as before," Once again, Maria's voice snapped Natasha back down to Earth. She let go of his hand instantly, not noticing the way James' face fell when she did. "Only now you'll fit right in."

"Right," Natasha nodded, clearing her throat. She suddenly felt uneasy, not certain she could go on with this mission the way she wanted to.

"So here's the plan," Hill said, seeming not to notice either of their reactions. "Today we create your past. Fake wedding, fake vacations, fake holidays, etc. Your wardrobe changes are behind the curtains, along with hair and makeup. Nat, you're on the left; Barnes, the right. Any questions?" Natasha avoided James' stare and shook her head. Hill waited a moment before nodding and walking away. "Let's get started."

.

.

.

Hours later, Natasha was exhausted and James was itchy.

"You've gotta give me more than this," Hill saying now, only getting a glare from the couple in return. "This isn't working," She decided.

"You're telling us," Natasha slumped her shoulders, tired of standing in awkward poses. She rubbed her face, trying to soothe the ache in her cheeks left from fake smiling all day.

"Take five," Hill called out from her spot behind the photographers back. She'd appointed herself creative director and had been shouting out orders to Natasha and James nonstop. They'd already covered most major holidays, an anniversary or two, casual party pictures, and were now working on Christmas.

James sat down on the luxurious single leather couch that had been brought in as a prop to go with whatever background the bright green screen was supposed to be.

His hair had been neatly trimmed by his stylist, now looking dangerously close to the way he wore it in the forties. He squirmed a bit, running a hand through his short hair and scratching at his ugly Christmas sweater yet again.

Natasha would never admit it, but she was enjoying most of the outfits chosen for him. He came off as a nerdy but hip type of guy who didn't know that stripes and polka dots clash. Even now, he wore thick black plastic glasses with no prescription and made them look good.

"Like the reindeers?" James asked when he caught Natasha staring at him. She cleared her throat and tugged at her hair.

"Yeah," She answered, her voice hoarse. Despite posing together and smiling, they had yet to exchange even a sentence to each other. "They suit you."

"And that hat suits you," He grinned, pointing at the big red Santa hat her wardrobe lady had made her put on. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, meeting his blue eyes with her green. Their eyes locked for far too long and she felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. All these years later and he could still give her butterflies.

"Okay, let's try this," Maria announced as inspiration struck her. Natasha was starting to wonder what would happen when Hill wasn't around to interrupt their tension filled staring contests. "James, stay where you are. Nat, get on his lap. Don't give me that look, just do it," Maria predicted her reaction and Natasha groaned, yet started to obey. James swallowed in his already dry mouth and moved his arms aside as Natasha set herself down on his lap. "Okay now look like you guys actually like each other please? You're supposed to be newlyweds!"

With a heavy sigh, Natasha situated herself more comfortably, snuggling against James chest and leaning her head towards his chest. As nervous as he was, his body seemed to know how to react before he could think about it. He put an arm behind her, resting a hand on her side and setting his other down on her thigh.

"Better," Maria approved. "Now smile!" They did the best they could with the rising pressure they suddenly felt with being so close to each other. After what seemed like hundreds of snaps later, Hill dismissed them for their last shots of the day. Natasha hopped off of his lap as fast as she could, fighting off thoughts of how comfortable they seemed to fit together.

The last pictures of the day were the ones Natasha was least excited for. She'd had a false marriage once before so getting ready for the 'big day' was like a nasty feeling of déjà vu. Awhile later she stared at herself in the full-length mirror before her. Unlike most little girls, she'd never really dreamt of her wedding dress, so she wondered her real one would've look like this. The dress picked out for her was simple, not even considered a gown.

It was pure white, flowing down to just above her knees in a way that was a bit girlier than she was used to. The top half was form fitting, hugging her torso in a sheer lace fabric up to her collarbones. The man doing her makeup had opted for a modest look, much to her liking, with dark lashes and liner that made her eyes pop.

Her short, straight hair had been pinned back and tucked under a wig of the same color. More like her natural hair, the wig had long red curls, half of which were pinned up in a simple style that she told herself to remember. In all honesty, though it was nothing she'd choose for herself, she liked the way she looked.

"You guys ready?" Maria's voice echoed in the near empty room, making Natasha wonder how long she'd been staring at herself.

"Yes, ma'am," James called out from behind his curtain, where unbeknownst to Natasha, he was a bundle of nerves.

He pulled at his hair, mussing up the neat gel his hairstylist had put in it. While James felt more like himself with the shorter style, he had to admit he missed being able to hide behind the long tresses. He felt more exposed than he already was.

"One last thing," The woman who'd handed him the black slacks and white dress shirt he wore said to him now. She came closer to him and wrapped something around his neck, making him immediately tense up. "There. Ta da!" She exclaimed. He looked down and frowned at the dark green bow tie he now wore.

"Is this really necessary?" He tried not to complain, but felt like a child wearing this.

"It matches her eyes," The woman said, determined to keep it. "Now go!" She left no room to argue as she pushed him out the curtain wall.

He stumbled out, feeling awkward as he stood with his hands in his pockets. There was only one cameraman, and a couple of people holding up lights, but James felt suddenly aware of how long it had been since he'd had any real human interaction. Any thoughts he had of backing out disappeared the moment he saw her.

She stepped out from the side of her curtains with a solemn expression he couldn't read. In an instant, he felt his heart beat faster and a rush of heat run to his cheeks. If his mouth dropped, he didn't notice, too preoccupied with the way her eyes sparkled.

Before he could control it, his mind flashed with bright images of her again. She was younger, standing on a balcony with an ocean behind her. He didn't know where he was, but he could tell he was late, feeling a sense of urgency when he arrived.

 _"Natalia?" He'd spoken her name gently to make her turn around, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. She left her spot and ran to him, meeting him halfway where he picked her up and spun her in his arms; never feeling so happy before in his life._

 _"You're late," She murmurs near his ear. He sets her down to look at her displeased expression, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You'll pay for that," Her eyes told of the punishment she had planned for him, yet he wasn't afraid._

"Okay, front and center, let's do this," James was growing weary of being interrupted by Agent Hill. Every time he was on the brink of remembering something about his past with Natasha, she spoke; halting his thoughts.

Nevertheless, he followed her instructions, meeting Natasha in the middle of the green screen to take the final pictures. The closer she got, the more he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. She noticed, but chose not to acknowledge his eyes, fearing she'd lose control.

"Okay face each other and hold hands," Maria directed, and they obliged. "Smile," She scolded until they both faced the camera with teeth showing. "Good good! Now put your arms around her. Yeah, yeah, just like that. Okay less teeth now. You got it!" Maria was sounding more and more like a photographer on America's Next Top Model than a Shield Agent with each passing minute.

Natasha was smiling, but focusing on trying to regulate her heartbeat. The last thing she wanted was for James to notice the effect he had on her. This mission was too important for her to let her past get in the way.

"Great, James, great," Hill was saying now. "Keep looking at her like that, it seems natural."

Her words make Natasha glance up, and wonder how long James had been staring at her. It's more than staring, though, it's borderline smoldering. Before she can stop herself, she's staring right back, searching his eyes for inkling of a clue as to what he was going on in his head. How much did he remember? And what difference did it make to him now?

"Okay, now let's just get one quick kiss," Hill makes the request, expecting an outcry of complaints from both, but gets none.

Instead, they linger for a moment, still staring at each other before leaning in. Neither of them knows who leaned first, but don't care. Natasha's whole body relaxes into the kiss, her hands moving to his chest then up around his neck. As soon as his mouth meets hers, James' nerves disappear, his back stiffening as he deepens the kiss. Even the photographer stops taking pictures as it becomes increasingly clear this is a private moment.

Natasha regains her senses first, remembering where they were and what the job is. She breaks free of his mouth, feeling herself flushed. He blinks his eyes open at her, still staring in a way that's now driving her mad. With a huff, she turns and storms into her dressing room. She's not sure who she's angrier with, him for getting inside her head or herself for letting him.

She yanks her wig off, freeing her hair in a mess around her as she fumes. Before she can think, she's storming out of her station, stomping behind the green screen to pull James out of his quarters.

"What the—," He can't even finish his sentence before she has his arm locked behind his back in a harsh grip.

"What are you doing?!" She manages to yell in a whisper, knowing they're not alone.

"What?" He responds, matching her volume.

"I said," She emphasizes her words by forcing his arm in an even more uncomfortable position. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm doing what I'm told," His instincts finally kick in, his leg swinging out behind him to trip her. As she loses her balance, he reaches out to hold her by the arms tightly. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Why did you agree to this mission?" She asks even though she's lost the upper hand. "Why did you turn yourself in to Shield?"

"To make up for what I've done," He admits to her. "To…to start, at least."

"You remember me?" She asks, fearing the answer.

"Yes," He replies, and then decides to be honest. "And no." He can tell she's not satisfied with his answer, but it's the best one he's got. "I…I'm trying to make things right," His voice is low, but something in his tone strikes a chord in her. He's telling the truth.

"Okay," She shakes free of his hands when he loosens his hold on her.

"Okay?" He repeats, confused.

"Okay," She leaves him baffled yet again.

* * *

 **please, please be kind.**


End file.
